


Chipped Nail Polish

by kailiff



Series: Chipped Nail Polish [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Trans Character, so many headcanons in this thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3898330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kailiff/pseuds/kailiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when the cute guy you keep running into in the elevator sometimes wears skirts and nail polish? You use xyr pronouns.</p><p>Oneshot. Zemyx.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chipped Nail Polish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [knesk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/knesk/gifts).



> spent entirely too much time on something short as this. uhh anyway
> 
> this is technically a one-year friendship anniversary gift for my good pal kahri. i tricked her into becoming my friend *rubs hands together evilly*
> 
> i also want to clear up for anyone concerned, i am nonbinary. the way zexion (& vexen, though ey is only mentioned) is portrayed is done so on purpose. calling xem by he/him pronouns in the beginning was intentional. i hope no one thinks this is an unrealistic or inappropriate portrayal of nonbinary individuals.
> 
> i have a [tumblr](http://lullabyshark.tumblr.com/)

The rain came down in buckets, the steely gray-dyed sky chasing chilly pedestrians back home where they wouldn't be soaked to the skin. Demyx ran blindly through the doors of his apartment building, his once bright, red hoodie gone brown. Ten steps forward, turn right, fifteen steps down the hall. He pressed the going up button, shivering as he waited for the elevator.

 

Demyx lived on the fifth floor of the building, affectionately dubbed Castle Oblivion by he and his friends for its poorly-lit halls and odd, constant mildewy smell. The place was real close to the harbor; ages ago, when the street hadn't even been built yet, the water probably claimed this part of the city too. As the elevator chimed and opened its doors, someone turned the corner, a dripping, black umbrella tucked under his arm. His hair looked like it had once been dyed electric blue, but with time and laziness it had faded.

 

“Hold the elevator, please,” he called to Demyx.

 

“Yeah, no problem,” Demyx called back, sticking his hand out to hold the doors open. He pressed the button for his floor with his other hand.

 

Once the two were situated and Blue had pressed the button for his own floor (the third), silence settled over them. Demyx glanced over to his elevator companion, noticing the way he picked at the edges of his jacket sleeve, and the water dripping from his folded-up umbrella.

 

“Pretty wet out, huh?” Demyx asked. Blue looked over at him, eyes a bit wide as if he hadn't expected a conversation.

 

“Yes, it _is_ raining,” he finally replied a beat or two later, then looked back down at his sleeve, fiddling with it again.

 

Demyx cleared his throat and looked around at the warm burgundy carpet, at the fingerprint-smeared metal walls and door. The stale, faintly lemony scent of ancient carpet cleaner lingered in the air. “Um, I'm Demyx.”

 

Too wrapped up in his sleeve, Blue took a second to react to the blond's introduction. He wrapped a loose thread around his finger and snapped it off. “Zexion,” he said, hand reaching to wrap around the strap of the messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

 

Before Demyx could say anything else, the elevator reached the third floor. Zexion exited without a word.

 

-

 

He was late. He was so, so, _so_ late. Axel was going to kill him.

 

Left hand tightly gripping his trumpet case, Demyx frantically slammed the elevator button. He was supposed to meet Axel like half an hour ago, but he accidentally slept in, and if Axel wasn't so protective of his drumsticks he would definitely throw them directly at Demyx's head. And honestly, the elevator just needed to arrive, because Demyx really didn't want to have to run down the stairs.

 

The doors finally opened, and Demyx tumbled in, slapping the door close button. “Come _on_ , hurry the fuck up,” he muttered. The elevator speakers played a jaunty tune, probably just to spite him. Five floors was far too many to have to travel when late.

 

Half a minute later, the elevator came to a stop on the third floor. Demyx was in the middle of a groan when the door opened and Zexion stepped on. Although the last time they met his bangs hung directly over one eye, this time he had pinned them back with a simple white barrette. Both bright sapphire eyes glanced warily at Demyx as he stepped on.

 

“Hey,” Demyx said, running a hand down his face as the doors closed. He pointedly kept his eyes off the barrette.

 

“Hello,” came the polite reply. Then he eyed Demyx's case.

 

The blond glanced down at the case in his hand and smiled. “It's a trumpet.”

 

Zexion flicked his eyes up to the blond. He hummed low in acknowledgment before turning his gaze forward again. He had the same messenger bag over his shoulder as before. Little holes peppered the fabric, evidence of the bag once donning countless buttons. Demyx wondered where the buttons had disappeared off to.

 

“You play anything?” he asked, tilting his head a bit.

 

Zexion exhaled a large sigh. “A bit of piano, but I'm a tad rusty now.”

 

“That's cool,” Demyx said, drumming the fingers of his other hand on the bumpy, black trumpet case. “I'm in a band with my friends, which is incidentally where I'm going right now. Well, I'm kinda late, but.”

 

He nodded. “What do you play?”

 

“Oh, anything, you name it. Jazz, ska. I play a lot of instruments, so we can do all sorts of genres.” Demyx waved his arms around as he spoke, his case swinging from the handle with every jostle. Zexion glanced at the multitude of stickers plastered on it; most were random, like little stars or cartoonish animals, a few scattered Spongebob stickers, but there were a couple displaying places Demyx had been before. One such sticker said in big, bright, proud letters: _Atlantica_.

 

A ding reminded the pair that they had landed on the ground floor. Demyx started to bounce in place, preparing to sprint full-speed to band practice.

 

“See you around, Zexion!” he shouted, throwing his free hand up in a wave. He left the shorter man in the lobby as he raced off.

 

-

 

“We meet again.”

 

Just as Demyx turned the corner, he saw Zexion standing down the hall waiting for the elevator. “Fancy meeting you here,” came the blond's snarky reply, which earned him an eye roll. Zexion was still wearing the barrette in his hair. “Seems like we keep running into each other all of a sudden.”

 

“How long have you been living here?” Zexion asked, leaning on the metal frame of the elevator door, tucking his thin hands into the pockets of his dark blue, houndstooth peacoat. Demyx let his trumpet case dangle lazily from his fingers.

 

He really had to think about that. It seemed like he had been living there forever. He stared at the peeling, horrendously 70's wallpaper and the flash of plaster under it around the edge between the ceiling and wall. “About a year and a half, maybe.”

 

Zexion's eyebrows perked up. “Really? Strange that we've never seen each other.”

 

“Well, I mean, this building probably houses tons of people,” Demyx replied with a shrug. The elevator arrived, and they clambered in.

 

“But for some reason, we're seeing quite a bit of each other lately.” The shorter of the two fiddled with his bag strap again. Demyx glanced down at those hands. Zexion's nails were painted a deep maroon.

 

“Similar schedules?”

 

Zexion scoffed at this, thin lips curling to a small smile. “Must be. Did you make it to band practice okay?”

 

The blond looked back up at Zexion's face, eyes wide with surprise that he remembered what Demyx had only mentioned in passing that morning. The corners of his mouth crooked into a shining, dimpled smile. “Ha, yeah, Axel was kind of pissed I was late though,” he snorted, running a hand through his hair. “Dude almost poked my eye out with his sticks.”

 

His own smile widening, Zexion observed the panel on the wall that displayed which floor they were on. “Oh, good,” he said. “Who knows if you would be able to play sans an eye.”

 

“Yes, everyone knows eyes are absolutely imperative to playing trumpet.”

 

“Ha.”

 

A silence crept over them, filling the foot and a half of blank space between their bodies. Demyx glanced over at Zexion, then down at the bag he was still gripping. Clearing his throat, he managed, “So, what's in your bag?”

 

Zexion leveled him with a stare, eyebrow raised.

 

“Oh god, okay, that sounded a lot creepier than I actually intended it to.” The blond ran a hand through his hair again, catching a knot somewhere around his ear. “Sorry, that was weird. You don't have to answer that question, wow.”

 

“Library books, Demyx,” Zexion finally replied after watching Demyx sweat for a few seconds. “It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong.”

 

“Oh, do you like to read?” Demyx asked, already over his blunder. “What kinds of things do you read?”

 

The elevator doors opened on Zexion's floor, revealing a woman holding a small child on her hip. Zexion stepped off as the woman stepped on. “Looks like we'll have to finish this conversation later,” he said, craning his neck around to look at the blond before the doors closed again. “See you around, Demyx.”

 

“Okay, bye Zexion.”

-

 

A week passed before the two crossed paths in the elevator again. At some point during the week, Demyx caught a flash of blue in the corner of his eye, and followed it to a small cafe. Sitting on the far side of the cafe at a tall table with a huge, muscular man and a blond chatting rapid-fire, Zexion took a sip of something covered with whipped cream. Zexion's bag was open beside him, a short stack of books placed next to him on the table. The only things Demyx took note of were the pouf Zexion's bangs had been pulled back in, and the flowy, black circle skirt that ended just at his thin knees. He didn't seem to notice Demyx looking in from the sidewalk, and Demyx had no reason to stay just in case he actually was spotted.

 

A few days later, Zexion stepped on the elevator while Demyx was on his way down, headed to Axel and Roxas's place for movies and takeout. He – they? – smiled when he saw Demyx, tucking his bangs behind an ear, although they just fell back in place over his eye. Zexion's nails were painted seafoam green.

 

“Long time no see,” Demyx grinned, leaning on the wall with his hip stuck out.

 

“Yes, I've been a little busy lately,” Zexion replied with a sniff. “My friend, Vexen, works as a lab assistant for pre-chem students over at the college, and... ey has been having a hard time keeping up with the workload right now. Midterms, you know. So, ey asked me to help out.”

 

Demyx nodded, although the word stuck out. The pronoun. He decided not to point it out. “That's good. Is your friend feeling any better now?” Zexion looked up at him.

 

“Oh, yes... ey's really quite insufferable when ey's flustered. We're actually going out to dinner right now.”

 

Demyx hummed, nodding again in acknowledgment and trying to ignore how Zexion was still watching him. His – their – mouth opened, and Demyx expected him – _which was it_? – to say something, but no sound came out. The elevator hit ground floor, and just as Demyx was about to step out, a hand grabbed his sleeve.

 

Whirling around, the blond looked down to see a surprised Zexion clutching his hoodie sleeve. “Oh, I... um...”

 

For a minute, neither of them moved, Demyx patiently awaiting whatever it was Zexion was trying to say, and Zexion unsure of how exactly to arrange their words. A short line assembled, and the pair realized they were holding up the elevator. With Zexion still holding onto his sleeve, Demyx led them down the hall and into the lobby.

 

They stared at each other for a few more seconds before Demyx finally cleared his throat. “You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. I'm sorry.” Zexion just frowned. “I understand. I'm still a stranger, I mean. I... I mean, i-if you have something to even tell me, I guess. S-sorry. It's none of my business.”

 

“No, I was just... just surprised. Um. You’re probably wondering about, well, a lot. Me, in particular.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do you have any paper?”

 

“Oh, I might have an old receipt or something, hold on...” Just as Demyx was about to take out his wallet and start sifting through it for paper, Zexion sighed. The blond looked up, eyebrows pinched together.

 

“Hold out your hand.” Demyx did as he was told, hand hanging limply in the air as Zexion dug around their bag, tongue clicking, and took out a turquoise sharpie. In stunned silence, Demyx watched as Zexion scribbled something on his hand in a tight, looping scrawl, or as close to that as it could be on skin.

 

**Pronouns: xe/xem/xyr**

 

“O-oh, yeah, th-thank you for letting me know,” the blond sputtered. He itched to stuff his hands in his jeans pockets, but he couldn't. Not if the ink would smudge. Not if Zexion would think he was stuffing xyr pronouns in his pocket along with his hands. His eyes flicked down to the bizarre, bus seat pattern of the lobby carpet. “Um.”

 

Zexion took a deep breath, tucking the sharpie away. “Well, anyway, I should really be going. The reservation...” Xe turned toward the door.

 

“Oh. C-cool.”

 

“I'll talk to you later, Demyx.”

 

Before Demyx could say another word, Zexion had hurried out the door. Demyx stared down at the ink bleeding out through the cracks on his hand.

 

-

 

During the movie, Demyx couldn't think. He was curled up on Axel and Roxas's dirty, beat-up couch, something they found on the side of the road ages ago, trying and failing to see the pictures flashing across the screen. Roxas had picked some ancient sci-fi film from his giant and well-loved collection of movies, something called _Deep Space_ , if Demyx remembered correctly, but nothing registered. He didn't even laugh with his friends when some random prop or piece of the background suddenly broke. He just speared another piece of orange chicken with his fork and wondered if Zexion liked shitty sci-fi movies from the 50's.

 

-

 

The next time Demyx saw Zexion, it was completely by chance. While Demyx was stationed in the chip aisle at the convenience store down the street from Castle Oblivion trying to decide whether he wanted a regular-sized bag of Cool Ranch Doritos or a _family_ - _sized_ bag, he caught a familiar head of blue hair walk past toward the refrigerated beverages. Grabbing himself a family-sized bag, Demyx side-stepped his way down to the end of the aisle, stealing a peek at Zexion regarding various flavors of Arizona teas. Xyr back was turned to Demyx, and the blond glanced at xyr combat boots, an odd pairing with the flowing, butter-yellow mullet dress xe was wearing.

 

As Zexion bent to grab a can, Demyx shuffled back into the chip aisle, clutching his Doritos to his chest. He grabbed the edge of a shelf and glanced over the store on tip-toes, watching the top of Zexion’s head make its way to the register.

 

The cogs in Demyx's brain were turning, and he set his plan to action.

 

When Demyx emerged from the chip aisle, he directed his gaze to the clerk behind the counter, despite the blue lurking in his peripheral vision. _Don't look at xem_ , he ordered himself. _Let xem notice you first._ He stood there waiting behind some dude with an armful of energy drinks.

 

“Demyx?”

 

There it was.

 

The blond in question turned to Zexion with a look of feigned surprised on his face. “Oh, hey Zexion!”

 

Xe glanced at the chips in his hand. “It's odd seeing you outside of an elevator,” xe said, smiling just slightly. “Are you sure you can survive out here in the wild?”

 

“Oh yes, I'm a trained professional,” Demyx nodded. “Did you have a nice dinner with your friend?”

 

Zexion moved to stand next to Demyx in line as the guy with energy drinks piled his loot on the counter. “If you count Vexen spilling coffee all over emself and cursing so much we got kicked out as nice, then yes, it was very nice,” xe replied, rolling xyr eyes.

 

Demyx let out a laugh. “Sounds exciting.” Zexion nodded, offering a small smirk. “I think it'd be fun to meet Vexen.”

 

“Ey's a little hard to get used to. I suggest taking em in small doses, otherwise you might get overwhelmed.”

 

“Oh, trust me, I can wrangle rambunctious people. I've been friends with Axel since middle school,” he said, moving up to the counter and fishing out his wallet. “That's when he got into arson.”

 

Zexion snorted, covering xyr mouth with xyr hand. After Demyx paid for his giant bag of chips, he stepped back and waited near the door. A minute passed, and Zexion walked over.

 

“You going back home?” xe asked, popping the seal on xyr drink. Demyx nodded and pushed the door open. He didn't stop to think about the implications of how that sentence was worded. “Let's walk together.”

 

The blond swallowed. “Yeah.”

 

Demyx chanced glancing down at Zexion as a silence washed over them. Even with combat boots clunking on xyr feet, the dress added a certain grace to xyr step. Xe took a sip from xyr Arizona, something-something mango, he wasn't paying attention. Zexion looked over and their eyes met.

 

“What?”

 

Demyx choked on his own spit.

 

As Demyx fumbled for a minute, Zexion narrowed xyr eyes at him. “Is this about... last night?” xe asked.

 

“What? No, no,” he said, putting his hands up. “I, um. You.”

 

“Me?” Zexion raised a brow.

 

Demyx took in a deep breath. “You. Y-you look nice, y'know?” Zexion stopped walking.

 

Xyr eyes widened, and despite the gloomy sky that seemed to fade all color, Demyx could have sworn xyr cheeks were just a little bit pink.

 

“I-I'm sorry, that was weird of me to say, wasn't it?” the blond grimaced, running his free hand through his hair. His gaze went down to a crack in the sidewalk a small patch of grass was sprouting from. “I keep saying weird stuff.”

 

“What do you mean I look nice?”

 

The question came from nowhere, and if Demyx hadn't been straining his ear for any sort of response, he would have missed it. He looked up and caught Zexion's gaze head-on. “Oh. Well, I guess you just,” he licked his lips, “you just look nice in skirts and stuff? Uh. Like, pretty and stuff. Sorry.”

 

Zexion cleared xyr throat and kept walking. “Thanks.” Xe held the lip of the can to xyr mouth as Demyx fell into step with xem.

 

A minute later, the pair stepped into Castle Oblivion. Ten steps forward, turn right, fifteen steps down the hall. Demyx pressed the elevator button, and the doors opened immediately.

 

The carpet in the elevator was more interesting than it had ever been before.

 

“H-hey, um,” the blond started. Zexion looked up at him. Both of xyr hands curled around the can, and Demyx couldn't peel his eyes away from those hands. Xyr nail polish was silver. “Would you wanna, like, get lunch or something?”

 

“Demyx, it's already past 4 o'clock,” xe replied after a beat. The doors opened on Zexion's floor.

 

“Dinner?”

 

The doors closed again before Zexion could answer, both of them standing facing each other in the small elevator. The faded scent of lemon stung their nostrils. Demyx was about to take back his question, when Zexion replied, voice small.

 

“Where?”

 

So surprised that Zexion was actually _interested_ , Demyx took a second to register exactly what xe said.

 

“Oh, um, how about Monstro's?” he asked. His hands were sweaty. When did it get so hot in this elevator? “You know the Italian place on Main Street? Is that okay?”

 

Zexion stared down at xyr drink before looking back up at Demyx. Other than xyr cheeks burning, xe looked cool as a cucumber. “Yes, that sounds fine.”

 

“Okay, cool.”

 

The elevator opened on Demyx's floor.

 

Neither moved for a moment. That was all it took for Demyx to side-step out of the elevator, still facing Zexion. “Um, so I'll see you in, what, two hours? Sound good?”

 

Zexion nodded before putting xyr hand up in a little wave. “I'll see you there, Demyx.” Demyx reached up to wave back as the elevator door closed.

 

-

 

The whale-shaped sign hanging over Monstro's Bistro's door was an eye-catcher. It had been masterfully carved and painted long before Demyx had arrived in Hollow Bastion. Demyx had been there a total of twice, and both times were as a third-wheel to one of Axel and Roxas's dates. Terrible, horrible dates. They just stared at each other the whole time; it was the worst.

 

Demyx sat in a booth in the middle of the restaurant, having explained to the waitress he was waiting on someone. She handed him a menu anyway, placing a second across from him. Demyx stared at the cracked, chipping lamination on the menu, which only made the place seem more homey and genuine. The restaurant was mostly wood; hardwood floors, wooden paneling on the walls, and tables and chairs warmly lacquered and worn down over years of use. The only thing that really squicked Demyx about the place was the creepy marionette sitting lifelessly on a shelf in the corner.

 

While Demyx was distracted by a face he found in the knots of the wood paneling on the wall, the bells over the door gave a chime. When he saw blue in the corner of his eye, Demyx finally turned to see Zexion sitting across from him, bangs braided neatly and pinned behind xyr ear. Demyx felt an odd tightness in his stomach when their eyes met.

 

“Hey, how's it going?” he asked, smiling as he picked up his menu again.

 

Zexion peeled off xyr coat, folding it in half and placing it next to xem. “I'm well,” xe replied, picking up the menu in front of xem. “But you didn't ask me here to small talk, I'm guessing.”

 

With a snort, Demyx glanced over the dinner specials. “You caught me,” he said, half-smile threatening to break into a full-blown grin.

 

“You... don't have to be nice to me, Demyx,” xe mumbled, staring down xyr menu. Xe looked up, but kept xyr eyes away from him, instead roaming over the wood faces in the wall. “I understand that I'm a bit unconventional.”

 

“Is that what you think this is?” he asked, eyebrows pinched together. Zexion didn't reply. “I'm being nice to you because I think you're cool and fun to talk to, not because of whatever it is you think I'm being nice to you for. Believe it or not, I _want_ to talk to you, Zexion.”

 

At this, Zexion glanced up at the blond, their eyes meeting for the briefest moment before xyr gaze fell down again, and xe picked at the nail polish on xyr thumb. “Have you ever met anyone like me before?”

 

“Yep,” he nodded. “My friend Roxas, actually. He's in the band with me. Plays drums like a pro. Or did you mean someone as smart and funny as you?”

 

Demyx jumped when Zexion slammed a fist down on the table, xyr eyes trained on the wall. A couple heads turned to see what the ruckus was about, but promptly went back to their food.

 

The waitress came back, placing glasses of water in front of the pair. Demyx hesitantly thanked her, glancing warily her way for a split second before looking back at Zexion.

 

“Can I get you boys anything else to drink? Are you ready to order?” she asked, and Zexion flinched.

 

“Oh, no, we're fine,” Demyx answered. “Could you come back in a few minutes, though? We haven't quite decided what we want yet.”

 

“Alright, sugar, just hollar if you need me.”

 

Bit by bit, Zexion unclenched xyr hand, laying it flat on the table. Xe breathed a sigh, staring down at xyr thin fingers.

 

“She didn't know,” Demyx said.

 

“I know,” Zexion replied. A beat passed. Xe picked xyr menu back up, although neither of them remembered xem dropping it. “This Reuben looks good.”

 

“Should I ask for a kid's placemat and crayons?” Demyx wondered aloud, taking a sip of water. Zexion snorted.

 

“Definitely.”

 

-

 

An hour and a half later, after the pair had muddled up the paper placemat with blue and green crayon, after a dozen or so games of tic-tac-toe, after spilling the entirety of Demyx's glass of water on the table, they stepped out into the chilly evening. The city had been subject to a flash rain over the course of their meal, slicking the sidewalks and streets. It was getting colder, though, as the season shifted into fall. The leaves would be changing soon.

 

A certain section of sidewalk on the way back to Castle Oblivion was a bit narrower, a piece of older Hollow Bastion that hadn't been renovated yet, and the two bumped shoulders. Demyx glanced down just as Zexion glanced up, and he shot xem a smile. He could have sworn he felt a gentle brush of fingers against his own.

 

“Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes!”

 

Demyx spun around to see all six feet and five inches of Axel barreling toward them, an exasperated Roxas behind him going at a normal pace. When Axel looked down and met eyes with Zexion, he stopped short. “Oh, shit, sorry, I didn't know you were–”

 

“If you keep talking I'm pretty sure you're just gonna be putting your foot in your mouth and embarrassing everyone, so you should probably stop now just to be safe,” Demyx deadpanned. He cleared his throat once Roxas finally approached, glancing down to make sure Zexion wasn't uncomfortable with the additional company. “Zexion, these are my friends, Axel and Roxas. Ax and Rox, Zexion.”

 

When Zexion and Roxas looked at each other, he was sure they were communicating telepathically through some short person hivemind, maybe to plot the end of mankind, or just people taller than 5'6”. They nodded silently to each other before shaking hands.

 

“Ohh, so _this_ is Zexion,” Axel remarked, even though Demyx had definitely not talked _that_ extensively of his friend. Demyx squinted at Axel, elbowing him in the ribs. He could have sworn he felt Zexion's eyes on him. “Ow! What the fuck, Dem.”

 

“Me, _moi_? I don't know what you're talking about,” Demyx replied as Axel rubbed his side. But then Axel pushed him back, nearly knocking him off-balance. “Hey, asshole, that was uncalled for!”

 

“What're you gonna do about it?” Axel shot back, grin wide and fiery. “Shitdick,” he added.

 

Demyx snorted at the insult. “Oh, now you've got it comin' to you.”

 

Before he could tell what was happening, Axel had him in a headlock and was noogying him to hell and back. Demyx didn't notice Zexion had wandered off until xe was already halfway down the block.

 

“Hey, Zexion!” he called, pushing himself out of Axel's grip. Zexion stopped and turned to look at him, silhouetted by the streetlight just overhead. He padded over. “Where are you going?”

 

Zexion looked down at a grate in the sidewalk that still gurgled with rainwater from earlier. “You were having fun with your friends,” xe said. “And I wanted to get home, so.”

 

“You're my friend, too, Zexion,” Demyx said, and he watched as a line between Zexion's brows wrinkled and smoothed out. He sighed. “I'll walk with you.”

 

“You don't have to –”

 

“Hey, Ax, I'll see you tomorrow!” Demyx shouted over his shoulder before Zexion could even finish xyr sentence. Axel shouted back, something obscene probably. “If I don't go with you, who'll ride the elevator with you?” he quipped as they started walking again.

 

“Good question,” Zexion replied. “But I'm pretty self-sufficient. I think I could have lived.”

 

“Thanks for playing along, Zex,” the blond scoffed, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Zexion smiled up at him.

 

“No problem!”

 

At any other time, Demyx would have been able to look at a person smiling and just smile back. He would have thought, _gee, that's nice_ , and been on his merry way. People being happy was just a thing he liked to see. But looking down and seeing that hammy grin stretch across Zexion's lips, he really wanted to kiss xem.

 

No, no, he couldn't do that. At least not then, not there. He'd probably get slapped if he kissed xem in public out of the blue. And just like that, his eyes were drawn to the way Zexion moved, the way xe tucked xyr hair behind xyr ear, the curve of xyr jaw. Xe was looking away from him, eyes on the ground as they walked, watching for puddles so xe didn't get xyr feet too wet. He noticed xem chewing on xyr lip absently, and realized he was definitely staring.

 

Castle Oblivion was just around the next corner. They would ride the elevator like always and then part ways until the next time they saw each other. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week.

 

Demyx opened the door for Zexion, buzzing them in through the door. He could feel Zexion's hand only an inch from his own. Halfway through the ride up, Zexion grabbed his sleeve.

 

“Could you come over for a sec? I wanted to give you something,” xe said, xyr grip lingering on his sleeve for a long time – or maybe it just seemed that way? – before letting xyr hand slip back to xyr side.

 

Demyx blinked. “Yeah, sure.” The doors opened and the two stepped out. “What is it?”

 

Looking over xyr shoulder, Zexion shot him a little half-smile. “That's a secret.”

 

Xe led him down the hall to room 306, and Demyx realized he hadn't even known until then what Zexion's room number was, and Zexion probably didn't know his either. He'd have to invite xem over sometime. He realized the implications of that thought and shook his head.

 

“You okay?” Zexion asked, digging for xyr key in xyr pocket. Demyx only nodded. Apparently satisfied, xe opened the door and ushered Demyx inside, leaving him in a small living room. “You can sit if you want, but wait here.” Xe disappeared into some other room.

 

Zexion's apartment was a little smaller than his own, but it could have just been all the furniture xe seemed to have. Two tall bookshelves stood along the walls of the room, a faded, over-stuffed maroon sofa sitting between them. A multi-colored knitted blanket had been folded neatly and draped over the top cushions of the sofa, probably something passed down from xyr grandmother. In front of the sofa was a low, antique coffee table, looking like at one point Zexion had tried to cover up ancient mug stains. A stack of coasters rested neatly on the corner of the coffee table.

 

The walls were mostly barren except for a large painting hanging over the sofa. It was simple, just a vase of flowers, but Demyx could see the delicacy and care in the strokes.

 

“That was a gift,” came Zexion's voice from behind him. Demyx turned around, and xe stood there holding a tupperware container. “My friend Lexaeus painted that for me. He's an artist.”

 

Demyx turned back to the painting, taking in the gentle pinks, the faded textures. He'd probably used a palette knife somewhere – but Demyx didn't really know much about painting. “It's beautiful.”

 

With a smile, Zexion went to stand next to him. “I'll let him know he's got a fan. Lexaeus is really more of a sculpture person, but he's pretty good with a brush.” Xe cleared xyr throat after a beat. “Speaking of gifts, I want you to have this.”

 

He looked down at the tupperware in Zexion's hand. “What is it?”

 

“Take a look.”

 

Demyx took the container from Zexion, and he couldn't help but notice their fingers brushing just slightly. Prying the top off, the scent of freshly-baked cookies wafted out. “Cookies!” He whipped his head to look at Zexion, who had gone back to picking at xyr nails.

 

“I baked them,” xe mumbled. “Thought you might like them. They're snickerdoodles.”

 

“It's really weird hearing you say a word like 'snickerdoodles',” he snorted, reaching in and stuffing one in his mouth. “Oh god, these are fucking _amazing_.”

 

“Glad you like them,” Zexion said, voice even. “Because they’re poisoned.”

 

Demyx paused mid-chew. He looked down at the cookie in his hand, a large bite taken out of it, before shrugging and continuing to eat. “S’a good way to go.”

 

Scoffing, Zexion turned around and padded back into whatever room xe had come from. Probably the kitchen. “Just kidding, they’re not poisoned. I like you too much to kill you. You want anything to drink while you’re here?”

 

Pausing again, Demyx rolled the words _I like you too much_ around in his head. He snapped the lid back on the tupperware and placed it on the coffee table. “Is it too late for coffee?” he asked, following Zexion.

 

Zexion stood in the middle of xyr kitchen, reaching into a cupboard for two mugs. “Demyx, it is never too late for coffee, and I’m shocked you would ask such a thing.”

 

“Need any help?” Demyx sidled around the kitchen, opening all the drawers and cupboards, half to find coffee, half to see where things were just in case he ended up coming over more frequently.

 

“You’re my guest, just sit down,” xe scolded, reaching up to their hair and taking xyr clip out. Xe ran xyr fingers through to get out the braid, and it fell awkward and curly around their right eye. Xe opened a cupboard right over the coffee maker and pulled out the goods.

 

Demyx hoisted himself up on a counter and watched Zexion bustle around the kitchen, getting out sugar and cream and other things. Zexion turned on xyr heel and spotted him, narrowing xyr eyes.

 

“Sit in a chair like a human, please,” xe said. “Counters are for food.”

 

When Demyx complied, xe went right back to it, completely unphased. Later, once the coffee was ready and Zexion had scooped no less than three spoonfuls of sugar in xyr mug, the two settled down in the living room. Demyx sunk into the cushions, no doubt only the comfiest for all the reading Zexion seemed to do. He watched Zexion slide two coasters down the coffee table and place xyr mug on one before grabbing the blanket and laying it over xyr legs.

 

Demyx took a sip of his drink. “Tonight was nice,” he remarked. “We should do that again.” Zexion looked over at him and smiled.

 

“Spill water all over a table at Monstro’s?”

 

“Yes, definitely. Besides, I have to even our tic-tac-toe score, you cheater.”

 

Zexion only laughed as xe reached for xyr coffee. “I don’t cheat, maybe you’re just bad at tic-tac-toe. Ever heard of strategy?”

 

“Who the hell comes up with strategies for tic-tac-toe? It’s a game made for bored people with nothing better to do.” He threw up a hand, his voice raising in pitch a bit as he spoke.

 

Rolling xyr eyes, Zexion just scoffed. “You can be bored and still employ simple problem solving tactics, Demyx. Why are you taking this so seriously?”

 

“Because you beat me twelve to three and I’m a sore loser,” the blond replied.

 

“At least you’re honest.”

 

“I was being serious, though,” Demyx said.

 

Zexion took a sip of xyr coffee, raising a brow at him. “The tic-tac-toe?”

 

He snorted. “Hanging out again.”

 

At that, Zexion’s eyebrows shot up, and xe placed xyr mug down again. “You want to?”

 

Demyx shrugged. “Well, yeah. It was fun hanging out with you outside of the elevator and I’d like to do it again if that’s okay with you.”

 

“It’s okay with me,” xe said. “When did you want to do it?”

 

“Maybe we can start simple? Maybe we could meet for coffee tomorrow?” When Demyx glanced at his hands he was playing with the frayed edge of his tshirt. He smoothed out the fabric and laced his fingers together over his stomach before looking back up.

 

Zexion sucked on xyr lower lip, mulling it over. Demyx’s gaze lowered, but only for a second. “Yeah, okay.”

 

“Nice!” The blond cleared his throat. “I mean, uh. Cool.”

 

“It’s okay, Demyx, you don’t have to pretend to be cool for me,” Zexion said, leaning back. “I already know you’re not.” Demyx only wheezed in reply.

 

Two hours later, Demyx realized that time had passed all too quickly. He also realized he had been sitting on Zexion’s couch talking to xem, his feet propped up on the coffee table, mugs long-dry. Demyx licked his lips, listening to Zexion ramble on about a book series he’d never heard of but considered looking into. And not just because Zexion liked it. Except maybe a lot because Zexion liked it.

 

It was weird, because he had never heard Zexion talk this long, or sound anything other than sarcastic. Xe had on this smile that told Demyx xe had no idea xe was smiling. Unlike some other smiles Demyx had seen, it was so absolutely genuine it couldn’t have been anything but pretty, even if it was a little crooked and xe had cookie crumbs on the corner of xyr lips. Every time he thought Zexion couldn’t get more beautiful, xe went and proved him wrong.

 

“What?”

 

Demyx blinked. Zexion had stopped talking and was staring at him, brows raised.

 

“What, what?” he asked.

 

“Um, the thing you just said,” Zexion said. Xyr faced flushed and shoulders hunched.

 

“I didn’t say anything,” Demyx said.

 

Staring, Zexion chewed on his lip. “You did. Just now.”

 

“What’re you – oh.” It dawned on Demyx that maybe his thoughts hadn’t completely stayed in his head. Maybe they had decided to come out his stupid mouth. “Ohhh… listen, Zexion, I, uh…”

 

A laugh interrupted him. Or that might have just been Demyx’s brain playing tricks on him, because it wouldn’t be the first time. But, no, although Zexion covered xyr mouth with xyr hand, xe was clearly laughing. Demyx frowned.

 

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” Zexion wheezed, wiping away what might have been a tear. “It’s just that you’re so honest. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

 

“I dunno if that’s a compliment or not,” Demyx mumbled, heating up to his ears. He stared at his mismatched socks still propped on the coffee table.

 

“You’re awfully transparent, you know,” Zexion said. “Do you know how many times I’ve caught you staring at me?”

 

With a groan, Demyx slid down the cushions until his feet dangled clear off the coffee table. He raked his fingers down his face. “Don’t tell me, please. I want my pride intact.”

 

Zexion laughed again, and leaned in so xe hovered over Demyx. “I was wondering how long you were going to draw it out. So are you going to ask me?”

 

“Ask you what?”

 

Xe rolled xyr eyes. “Honestly, Demyx, if you don’t know the answer to that question I really don’t know what to tell you. And the coffee thing doesn't count, by the way. But for what it’s worth, _my_ answer is yes, and when?”

 

Demyx scooched himself back up, lips curling up. “How can you know the answer to a question that hasn’t even been asked?”

 

“Don’t sass me. Being sassy is my job.”

 

“Fine. Zexion, would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?”

 

“Yes. When?” Zexion laid xyr head on Demyx’s shoulder.

 

Demyx snorted. “Hmm, how does Friday sound? There’s this neat little bar called Nocturne that does open mic nights and uh, my band is gonna be playing.”

 

“What time?”

 

“Ten, I think.”

 

“It’s a date.”

 

Despite Demyx’s hands turning clammy and his clothes feeling far more stifling than normal, he couldn’t help but grin. “It’s a date.”


End file.
